


Words in Iron

by tmariea (OccasionalArtist)



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fairies AU, Fairy!Mikleo, Foreplay, I think that's about all I can tag without spoiling things, I'll add more later as they occur, Kissing, M/M, Sorey making Questionable Choices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-05 18:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11584068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionalArtist/pseuds/tmariea
Summary: Sorey has been dreaming of exploring the barrows since he was a kid, lured by myths of grand tombs and relics, and warned away by his Grandfather's stories of the Fair Folk.  He never could have expected those stories to have some truth.  No matter what, Sorey is about to be in over his head.





	1. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soymilkheaven (SilverKitsune)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverKitsune/gifts).



> So, here's the Fairies AU I've been talking about for a while (quite a while now, geez)
> 
> First chapter I'm associating with sormik week day 1, Beginnings. The second should be out for day 8, the bonus day.
> 
> Also, much thanks to soymilkheaven, who is probably responsible for at least half the plot of this thing, and truly who I feel has at least some ownership of it, too.

“Sorey,” Alisha said, a hint of both anxiety and warning in her voice.  “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Sorey twisted on his heels so he could see her standing behind him, but did not straighten from his crouch.  At his feet was a hole in the ground, barely visible amongst the tangle of tree roots around it.  But it was the most thrilling hole in the ground in his life.  “Come on, Alisha.  I’ve been dreaming about exploring the barrows since I was a kid, and I know you have been too.”

She averted her eyes to gaze up the gentle slope of the hill, which was dotted with unnatural mounds of varying sizes.  The barrow on top of which they stood was the smallest of the lot, barely distinguishable from the natural terrain.  That was likely why the small copse of hawthorn trees had been permitted to grow there in the first place.  “Those were childish fantasies, play pretend,” she replied, crossing one arm over her body to hold tight to her other elbow.  A nervous posture.  “I never thought we would actually do it.”

True, the barrows had always been a place of fantasy, firmly rooted in childhood dreams of grand and courtly processions, bringing valiant kings and heroes of old to their final resting places.  And, on particular foggy mornings when the light was just right, it was almost possible to imagine the fairies of Gramps’ stories peering out of the mists before vanishing away.

Those stories were, in part, why Sorey was not allowed to visit the barrows nearly as often as he would like.  “That’s Fair Folk territory,” Gramps had said many times over, usually with a pause for a drag on his pipe.  “You don’t want to wander there too long, lest you find yourself in the Fairy Realm with no way home.”  Now that he was older and not so susceptible to fairy tales, Sorey had filed these kinds of tidbits alongside Gramps’ similar warnings, like don’t follow the will-o-the-wisp lights in the forest at night – common sense wrapped in mystical packaging.  Don’t walk into the woods in the dark, don’t wander off somewhere you could get lost.  The fairies were just there to get the little kids to listen.

Besides, the allure of the place to him had never been in magical creatures.  No, he was fascinated with the barrows because people didn’t just put kings in the ground.  They built them tombs, made offerings to keep them fed and rich in the afterlife.  What relics lay at rest under these mounds of earth?  Would there be actual tombs, ruins even?  Burial practice could tell a lot about a culture, and very little was known about the time period when the barrows had been built.  There had been almost no investigation done on them either, so all the treasure and knowledge which could lay within remained silent and unseen.

Which is why, on his way to Ladylake that morning to meet up with Alisha, Sorey had pulled his car off the road in the little section of dirt allotted for parking to view the ‘historic landmark.’  On foot, he bypassed the tourist information sign, and the coin-operated binoculars where vaguely interested tourists could pay one gald for a closer look at the grass-covered mounds.  Those binoculars didn’t cut it for Sorey.

Instead, he had hiked out amongst the barrows.  At the center, they were tall, taller than him, and packed so close together that the sides of one would jostle with another for space.  He liked to start there, and then move down the hill, following the mounds out towards the edges, where they became shorter and more spread apart.  From his position on the hill, he could just see the outline of Ladylake out on the water, could imagine courtly processions with their precious burden and offerings for the dead working their way across the long bridge and up to where he stood.

Sometimes, a small walk was enough to sate his fantasies, but that morning, he had walked all the way out to the edge, to the barrow amongst the trees where he and Alisha currently stood.  He’d sat at the crest for a short pause and a snack, which is how he had managed to spot an unusually dark spot between the hawthorn roots.  He’d investigated just enough to confirm that it seemed to be a hole _into the barrow_ before rushing down to the city and bringing Alisha back up to revel in his discovery.

And yet, currently, she seemed more interested in caution than reveling.

“Come on, where’s your adventuring spirit?”  Sorey asked.

“I’m up for adventure – if you want to go exploring the temple ruins near Elysia, or Lefay, I’m all there.  But we don’t know how far down that goes, or what’s down there.”

“Oh,” He said, and sat down in the grass so he could shrug off his backpack and rummage unhindered.  He pulled out a chunky flashlight and waved it triumphantly in the air.  “If that’s the only problem, then let’s take a look.”

“I can’t even believe you were willing to jump into an unidentified hole without looking in the first place.”

“Too excited, I guess,” he said.  He rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand, but it seemed more like a reflex motion; his attention was still solidly fixed on what might be their entrance into legend.  “Guess it’s a good thing you’re here, then.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”  Alisha sighed and crouched down next to him.  “We should probably go explore your barrow, then, while I’m still around to reign you in.”

“Alisha!” Sorey exclaimed, and then tackled her with a hug that threatened to topple them both to the ground.  He managed to at least look sheepish when he let go, and dutifully brushed the rumples out of the shoulders of her shirt.  Then, unable to concentrate on much else for long, he turned back to the hole and pointed the flashlight down.  From what he could see, it looked like any ordinary hole in the dirt, and the bottom was visible.  He wasn’t able to judge the distance with perfect accuracy, but it wouldn’t be an unreasonable depth to jump.

“Okay, now that doesn’t look too bad, now does it?”

Alisha craned over the side of the hole to peer down as well.  “No, it doesn’t.”

“Awesome!  Let’s go.”  Sorey reached into his bag again, and this time pulled out a length of rope.  He moved toward one of the sturdier-looking Hawthorne trees and tied it around the base of the trunk.

“Do you really have a flashlight and rope just on you at all times?  Not that it’s all that surprising.”

“Ah, no.  They were in my car.  Emergency kit and all that.  I’m not that much of a nerd.”

“If you say so.” 

Sorey checked over his knot and gave the rope a tug rather than replying to that comment.  It held well, so he began to lower himself into the hole.  It was a tight squeeze, and he was right about the drop not being too long, but they would need the rope on the way back up.  Once on the ground, he smiled up at Alisha and motioned for her to toss down the flashlight and join him.  She let it drop, and he caught it with only minor fumbling before flipping it on to look around.

The space was not large, and he had to duck so he wouldn’t hit his head.  He probably had plenty of dirt in his hair already, and more shifted and fell as Alisha climbed down.  Sorey moved close to the edge of the space to make room, and shone his flashlight on the walls.  At first, it seemed as there was nothing preventing the whole barrow from coming down on their heads; he could see no traces of beams or other man-made supports.  He reached a hand to brush his fingertips across the dirt, and found instead a fine mesh of roots.

“It doesn’t look like there’s anything down here, Sorey,” Alisha said, practically in his ear dues to the confines of the space.  “How is it staying up?”

“Here, take a look.”  Sorey shuffled to the side so that she could touch the wall as well.  “I think this is from the Hawthornes.”

“So this is all natural, then.  Was this space washed away by the spring rains?”

“The hole we came through, maybe.  But I don’t think this space could be natural; it’s far too regular.”  He paced around Alisha in a right circle, examining the perfect curve of the walls.  “Water doesn’t flow that way, and roots don’t grow like that either.”

“There are shapes which show up over and over again in nature, though, like Fibonacci spirals.  Besides, how would humans from thousands of years ago have an effect on the way that the tree roots are growing now?”

“What, so are you saying that someone has done this recently?”

“That’s a possibility.  The one thing we haven’t considered yet is that perhaps there could be some validity to your grandfather’s stories.”

Sorey raised an eyebrow, which he doubted was visible in the low light.  “Fairies?”

“I don’t know!  I’m just talking through all of the possible theories.  Nothing else seems quite right, so why not.”

“What little information exists on the barrows suggests that they were built by the Tuatha de Danann as part of their burial practices.”

“Sorey,” Alisha heaved a sigh, “The Tuatha de Danann are a type of fairy.  And this does not look like a tomb.”

“In the mythological accounts, they are, yes.  But historical accounts speak of them as the original peoples of this land before new settlers came across the sea.  You are right about the tomb thing, though.”  Disappointment swam in Sorey’s stomach.  Despite the fact that they were standing in a hole of mysterious origin under the barrows, they were still standing in a hole.  Exhaustion fizzled unexpectedly just behind the disappointment, and he plopped down to the dirt.

“Are you alright?” Alisha asked.

“Fine.  It just… isn’t what I expected.”

She crouched down and then sat back on her knees to join him.  “That’s going to be a part of doing any kind of archaeology work, though, isn’t it?”

Sorey pouted, and then conceded.  “Yes, it is.”  He knew that if some day he became a legitimate archaeologist he would have to get used to disappointing digs.  It was just harder to face up to it when what he had hoped to find was so wrapped up in his childhood fantasies.

“It’s not all bad,” she continued.  “You’re still under a barrow.  We only ever dreamed of doing that.  Besides, it would be foolish to base all of our conclusions on one example.  There’s no guarantee that the rest of the barrows are empty.  This is a rather small one after all; perhaps it was never finished.”

“Yeah, you’re right!  There could be other explanations.  What, though?”

Both of them lapsed into silence as they considered the new mystery.  Sorey idly flicked the flashlight across the walls while he thought, watching the faint shine of the light on the pale roots.  After a few passes, his eyes landed on a discrepancy, a spot where there were no pale roots at all.  “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

He pointed the flashlight directly at the spot.  He expected the light to land on a dull, rootless patch of dirt.  Instead, it shone into darkness, much further and deeper than an unusual bit of wall.  “Is that a tunnel?”  He didn’t wait for a reply before moving forward to touch the edges of the darker spot.  As he thought, it was an opening.

“Sorey, I know what you’re thinking, and it’s an even worse idea than coming down here in the first place.  What if some animal lives down there?  Maybe that’s how this hole was made.”

“Was this here the whole time?” He asked, entirely bypassing Alisha’s concern.  He wasn’t sure he had seen it on his first inspection of the space.

“It must have been.  And no, we should not go down it.”

“Oh come on, weren’t you the one who said we shouldn’t base our conclusions on just one barrow?  Unless I’ve gotten completely turned around, I think this leads uphill, toward the bigger ones!”  The tunnel was not large, but this did not stop Sorey from sticking his head in.  He would fit if he crawled.

“We really shouldn’t,” Alisha said.  Yet, when he looked over his shoulder, she was hovering just behind him.  It was hard to tell in the light of the flashlight, but her eyes seemed to contain a hint of curiosity and excitement.

Sorey grinned and dropped fully to his hands and knees.  The shaft of the flashlight pressed awkwardly into his palm, but they certainly needed the light.  He crawled into the hole, confident that Alisha would follow.  After about a hundred or so feet, he did look back just to check, and there she was, looking partly exasperated but also interested.

They crawled for a while without changes, long enough that Sorey was starting to feel confident about his theory of the tunnel being a passage linking barrows.  He wondered if perhaps the one they had entered through had been connected to the others but never filled.

It was difficult to tell distances well since they were crawling instead of walking, but Sorey thought they should be coming up under the center of the next barrow when the passage started to change.  It was subtle at first, with the floor slightly sloping down and the ceiling slightly up, opening it out inch by inch.  It wasn’t enough to make it worth standing up yet, but Sorey’s heart beat faster anyway.  An animal wouldn’t widen the passage like that.

Only a few feet beyond he noticed the change in slope in the tunnel, the flashlight passed across something on the wall that caught his eye.  Sorey stopped and shone the light at it; in the better light he could see it was a dull stone set into the dirt of the wall, and carved with a curving pattern.  “Alisha, look at this,” he said, and shifted as best as he could to the side so they could both see.  “That is definitely not natural.”

She reached out a hand to brush the edges of the pattern with her fingertips, as if she couldn’t completely believe it was real.  “No, that isn’t.”

“That means there were people here!  There was something here!”

“Someone at least.  We don’t know what it means though.”

Sorey tilted his head and examined the pattern further.  It had soft edges, and maybe looked a bit like an abstract cloud.  But he doubted the answer was as simple as ‘a cloud.’  It revealed no further secrets to him.  “No, we don’t.  But there could be more carvings further in!  Maybe there will be a clue about this one.”

He maneuvered around so he was facing forward again, and kept crawling.  More similar stones dotted the passage at regular intervals, for long enough that he was sure they had to be under the largest, most central barrows by now.  No two stones were exactly the same, and none of them gave any clues to the rest, as he had hoped.  This didn’t dampen Sorey’s spirits any.  He was thrumming with energy; it was a mystery, a discovery, and he and Alisha had made it!  He would have to convince his university to make an expedition, come back with proper tools and research materials. 

Sorey was daydreaming about leading the expedition, about discovering what these patterns meant when he caught a flash of light in front of him.  His eyes went wide and he passed his flashlight back and forth, wondering if it had reflected off something in the dark.  But no, the light remained steady.  It was impossible.  There was no way light could reach all the way down into the barrows, unless another hole had opened up.  Yet, when he clicked off the flashlight, the light was still there.  It was faint and far away, but Sorey could feel his heart beating quickly again.

By now, the tunnel was high enough to stand, and so he did, and started walking toward it, his steps growing faster until he was almost running.  He knew that was a stupid thing to do, but it didn’t stop him.  He skidded to a halt as he reached the source of the light, unable to believe his eyes.  The tunnel opened out into a courtyard, surrounded by stone walls and paved with rough cobbles.  They had been tossed up and grown over by copious amounts of moss and creeping vines.  Arched windows set high into the walls let light stream down in shafts that illuminated lazily shifting particles of dust.  Across the open space were more dark tunnels, leading off in different directions.

 “No way,” Sorey breathed, “There are no windows in the sides of the barrows.”  He stepped out onto the cobbles, feeling the uneven texture of them under his shoes, and then turned back to see what Alisha would think.

She wasn’t there.

“Alisha?” he asked the empty space.  His breath caused tiny motes of dust to swirl in the otherwise undisturbed dust in the air.  He could swear she had been just behind him, but perhaps she had stopped to examine one of the later carvings.  He walked back into the tunnel, and started to work his way back, accompanied by no sounds other than the tap of his shoes on the cobbles. 

Wait, cobbles?  Sorey could swear there had been dirt on the floor just outside of the courtyard, but it was possible he had missed that detail in the dark and his excitement.  He kept walking, in increasing anxiety, and started calling her name.  It echoed back to him off of the stone walls.  The walls had been dirt.  He knew that for certain.  They had been packed dirt, not this grey stone cut into sharp angles at the ceiling and floor, and decorated at waist-height with a continuous line of similar             swirls to the patterns they had found before.  And yet, he had only taken one step out of the tunnel, turned around and walked back in, so there was no way he had gotten lost.

Sorey broke into a run, and called Alisha’s name again.  Impossible, all of it.  He was starting to get scared.

He didn’t stop until his breath was coming hard and his shoe nearly caught on a crack in the floor.  He paused with a hand to his chest, feeling the frantic beating of his heart. 

Then it came to him.  He was dreaming.  That was it, the only way to explain Alisha’s disappearance along with the strange, shifting tunnels.  He remembered slumping down against the wall in that first barrow when they found nothing there, swamped by exhaustion and disappointment.  He must have fallen asleep there, back next to Alisha, back where they both were safe.  And his mind was handing him a fantasy where he had discovered a whole set of ruins beneath the barrows.

Some part of his mind wondered where he had seen those swirling patterns.  He certainly didn’t remember them before.  Sorey reached out a hand to feel the smooth edges of the carvings on the walls, and started walking slowly again.  Now that he had a handle on the situation, he was curious just where his imagination would take him.

It didn’t take long before his tunnel ended abruptly, opening into another well-lit courtyard.  This one was larger than the first, and the ceiling swooped up a full two stories.  Decorative columns and arches lined the walls on both levels, with some on the ground floor cradling yet other doorways, whereas some had more carvings.  Some of the columns had started to crumble away.  The faint sound of running water met his ears, and he found its source in a large pool across the courtyard, fed by trickling streams of water down the mossy walls and through shallow cracks in the floor.  It looked impossibly clear.

 Sorey stepped out with the intention of exploring, but he stopped in his tracks.  Somehow, he hadn’t noticed that he was not the only one in the courtyard.  The other person had their back to him, but it was obviously not Alisha.  This person looked to be nearly his height, and had a ponytail of long white and blue hair.  _Dreaming_ , he repeated to himself again, because he had never met anyone with hair like that before.

He took another step forward, towards this stranger.  They must have heard him, because they turned to face him, ponytail swinging with the motion.  The person appeared to be male, but with a slender waist accentuated by his fitted white and turquoise tunic.  Sorey’s eyes traced up the patterns on the front of it, past his confidently-held shoulders, up past shapely lips parted in surprise, and finally met a pair of violet eyes.  Sorey drew in a sharp breath, and took another step forward.  He hardly knew what to think about the appearance of this person in his dream, but his mind supplied one word: _beautiful_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful ruins. Beautiful man in the beautiful ruins. It's just about everything Sorey could have ever wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you the smutty stuff was going to be here soon...

“Who are you?  And how did you get here?” the stranger demanded.  His voice was lyrical, and matched his appearance well.

Sorey blinked, still momentarily dumbfounded by the appearance of this person.  Not to mention the fact that he was looking at him with an expression that landed somewhere between curious, wary, and annoyed.  “I’m Sorey,” he said with a wide smile, hoping that friendliness would appeal more towards the curiosity.  “I climbed down into one of the barrows on Falkwin Hillside, and I fell asleep.  I’m, ah, dreaming.”  He belatedly realized how strange it would be to inform a character in a dream that he was, in fact, not real, but he said it anyway and then felt the heat on his cheeks.

The stranger looked at him with a new expression, this one confusion.  “This is not a dream.  You are in the fairy realm.  You are a human, and you are in the fairy realm.”

“Ah, okay,” Sorey said, and brought a hand to rub at the back of his neck.  He had the feeling that trying to insist his point would not be productive. And so instead, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Mikleo,” the man said, and then sighed.  “You are not supposed to be here.  I should escort you back.”  He didn’t sound happy at the prospect, but it didn’t seem to be out of annoyance at the task.  If nothing else, Sorey could swear Mikleo sounded disappointed.

He didn’t want to leave, either; no matter how strange this place was, the ruins were beautiful, and interesting.  Perhaps, then, he could convince Mikleo to let him stay.  “Must I?  I would really like the chance to explore this place more.”  He began to make his way across the floor, to where Mikleo stood, trying to take in as much of the walls and their carvings as he could while he went.

Mikleo crossed his arms, and the slightly-wary, slightly-curious look was back as he watched Sorey approach.

“Are you exploring this place, too?  What is it?” Sorey tried again.

“These are the Mabinogio Ruins,” he said, “and yes, I am here to explore as well.”

“That’s so cool!  I’ve always wanted to study and explore ruins.  Can you tell me more about them?  I passed all of these carved stones, and then the same carvings on the walls just near here.  Do you know what they were for?” Sorey had more questions, but he clamped his mouth shut so he wouldn’t keep rambling, and Mikleo could speak.

Mikleo hesitated for a moment.  “I really should take you back,” he mumbled, barely audible.  But then he said, louder and more confident, “I suppose I could answer a few questions, first.  This place is right on the boarder of the human world and the fairy realm.  Hundreds of years ago, the lines blurred here, and both races could interact.  You must have found one of the old fairy roads, which would lead to and from Mabinogio.  Those stones would be the markers.  Although, I don’t understand why the road would have opened again now.”  He brought a hand to his chin as the other cupped his bent elbow, and his eyes drifted upward as he contemplated.

Sorey didn’t have an answer, but he didn’t want to stop talking with Mikleo either.  His face and eyes had lit with so much enthusiasm as he spoke.  It was an enthusiasm he recognized in himself.  “Was this place like a palace, then?”

Mikleo’s eyes darted down again to meet Sorey’s.  “Ah, not quite.  The Seelie Court did not govern from here, as far as I have read.  But it seems it served some similar functions.  I have explored rooms for meetings, rooms for dance and music, rooms for grand feasts.  Here,” he paused and dug a small book from a pouch at his belt.  He took a step closer to Sorey, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.  The book fell open in his palm, and he began to flip through drawings of the spaces he described.  Sorey had no way of knowing how faithfully they were rendered, but the book piqued his interest, as did the notes jotted in blank spaces and margins in a script he did not recognize.  There was something familiar about it, though, but just out of reach.

“These are beautiful,” Sorey said.  He was so tempted to reach out and run his fingers over the page, but he wasn’t sure if that would be welcome.  He wouldn’t forgive himself if he smudged the drawings.

When he glanced up at Mikleo’s face, his cheeks were tinged pink, and his free hand had come up to fidget with one of the long pieces of hair that framed his face.  Frankly, it was adorable, but Sorey was sure if he commented on it, he would scare Mikleo off.

“It is only a hobby.  There are many better artists in the Seelie Court.”

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t good.  Have you drawn this courtyard?”

“Yes,” Mikleo said and began flipping through the pages again.  He landed on a sketch which looked across the courtyard with the pool in the far corner, at only a slightly different angle from where they stood.  The details were faithfully done, from the cracking and uneven cobbles to the trickles of water that ran down the walls and fed the pool.  It was good enough for Sorey to assume that the rest of the drawings he had seen were accurate representations as well.

“You really love this place,” he mused.  No one who didn’t have a passion either for the place or for drawing would have captured it so well.  And since Mikleo had said he did not consider himself an artist, Sorey got the feeling it was the place.  “Why was it abandoned?”

Mikleo sighed.  “Since the court did not rule from here, there was little reason to keep using it once contact ended.  There are other places like this, too, but this is the largest.”

Sorey could feel himself leaning towards Mikleo minutely, eyes wide and smile large.  He would love to know more about these other places, and this place, and the amazing character his mind had built for him.

For now, he would start small.  He took a step back from Mikleo’s side, and turned so he could face the nearest wall.  “These murals, what are they supposed to show?”

“Ah, um,” Mikleo began, caught off guard by the sudden change of subject.  It was the first time Sorey had heard him sound anything than articulate and put-together.  Sorey liked it; it made him sound even more real.  “A lot of it is mythology, and perhaps a bit of history here and there.”

“Will you tell me?” Sorey asked.  He began to make his way up to the closest mural, glancing back over his shoulder to check that Mikleo was following.

He was; he stepped up next to Sorey, one hand coming to rest on the point of his chin, and began to speak.

Sorey learned quickly, before Mikleo had even finished telling the tale of the first fresco, that he could get lost in that voice, in the way it wove a story.  He was torn, frequently, between admiring the sculptures and paintings on the walls and admiring his companion as they made their way around the room.  Some of the stories Sorey recognized, from his grandfather’s stories, or perhaps a book he had read at some point, and those were always good opportunities to watch the way Mikleo’s hands and face moved as he spoke.  Other stories, he couldn’t place, though, and found himself wondering just where in his mind those had been tucked away.

At one point, about halfway around, Mikleo paused abruptly in his storytelling.  He turned to Sorey, a sudden curiosity and light sparkling in his eyes.  “When I am done, in exchange you will tell me about your world.”

Sorey smiled, said, “of course!” and felt his heart beat just a little faster under that gaze.

And so it came to be that once they had completed a full circuit around the room, the two of them settled onto a piece of column that had collapsed onto its side, so Sorey could begin his own storytelling.  It took him a good few minutes to decide where exactly to start, with such a wide world to describe and no reference point from which to begin.  He finally settled on describing his home town of Elysia first, and to go from there.  That was easier said than done, when Mikleo kept interrupting for definitions of many modern things he seemed to know nothing of, such as electricity, and cars.  And yet, the frequent pauses and backtracking never seemed to bother him; he listened with rapt attention and the same curious light in his eyes from before.  Sorey had no way of keeping time, but he felt as if they spent hours conversing like this.

It did not go without notice, either, that the more they spoke, the closer together they had shifted.  He spent a moment distracted when their knees nudged together, but decided to let it go and continued his stories.  Much harder to ignore was when Mikleo lay his hand on the pillar beside him as he leaned just a bit closer, and their fingers brushed.  That was where Sorey’s voice faltered.

His eye was drawn, by the fall of the light and the sway of Mikleo’s hair, to his ears.  They tapered up to a delicate point.  Fairy ears.  He couldn’t resist reaching out a hand to touch that point, to feel it for himself.  “Oh, this is most definitely a dream,” he mused again.

“Is that what you think of me?”  Mikleo asked, something strange in his voice and a flush creeping across his cheeks.

“Yes, most definitely.”  The wildest, most wonderful kind of dream.

Mikleo met his eyes then, and there was playfulness in them.  Sorey found himself hard put to glance away as a hand came up to his face.  The backs of long fingers traced up his jaw, the touch elegant and light with just the slightest graze of nails.  It made him shiver.  Mikleo’s fingers continued up, to his ear, and along the lobe until he reached the base of his earring.  “I will ask again.  Is that what you think of me?”

Everything about the touch, the drop in his voice, was sensual.  This dream was certainly taking a turn.  It made him blush to imagine, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to pass up this opportunity.  Even if it wasn’t real, would he ever get the chance to touch someone this beautiful again?  He breathed out a heavy breath, one he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and repeated, “Yes.”

“Good,” Mikleo said, at the same time as his fingers lightly pinched the shell of Sorey’s ear.

Sorey gasped, but the sound was cut off by a pair of lips against his own.  They were soft, and warm.  There was a moment of hesitancy, where neither of them seemed quite sure how they wanted to proceed, but then Mikleo’s hand slid from Sorey’s ear into his hair to press him closer.  Sorey’s hand curled around Mikleo’s back in response and came to rest on his shoulder blades.

He had barely any time to think that this was perhaps the best dream he’d ever had, and then to worry if he would be making any strange noises in his sleep, before a tongue touched gently at his lips.  It nudged them apart, and all thoughts and concerns promptly fled Sorey’s head in the wake of the excited twist low down in his gut.

As they explored each other’s mouths, Sorey made a number of small, but not unimportant discoveries.  Mikleo expressed his enjoyment in small hums in the back of his throat.  Whenever Sorey did something he particularly liked, he would curl his fingers against Sorey’s scalp, and it felt divine.  He particularly liked when Sorey nipped gently at his lips.

            He wondered, for a moment, if Mikleo would like him to nip at any other parts of him.  This was a theory worth testing.  He brought up a hand to brush away one of the locks of hair that framed Mikleo’s face, and twisted his head down and to the side so he could kiss, and then nibble, at his neck.

He was rewarded with a small moan, and an utterance of his name, low and slow.  Mikleo’s hands tightened in his hair even further, and his head tilted to the side to expose more of his neck.  Sorey could feel the heat creeping under his collar, arousal winding steadily down his body.  He wanted more of those sounds.

Sorey bit harder, and then began to suck.  Mikleo’s shuddering breath sounded loud in his ears, and his pulse beat fast under Sorey’s tongue.  He made sure to keep at the skin with his lips and teeth until he was sure there would be a mark.  When he moved away, he took a moment to admire the red patch, which was just starting to darken, before ducking close again to lick gently at it.  The skin was wonderfully warmed and smooth under his tongue.

He was just thinking of where he might like to mark next, when the hand in Sorey’s hair tugged him up again.  He uttered a small moan of his own before his lips were met by Mikleo’s again. 

It was hardly more than a quick peck, before Mikleo broke away and flashed Sorey the kind of sly smile that Sorey wanted to permanently stamp into his memory.  It was distracting enough that he didn’t notice when Mikleo slipped away from his hands and stood to make his way over to the pool.  By the time Sorey caught up, he was sliding the stiff shoulders of his jacket down his arms.

“Uh, Mikleo?  What are you doing?”

“Going for a dip.  It seems like a good way to cool off.  Would you like to join me?”  He grinned as he let the jacket fall to the ground.

Sorey didn’t need to be asked twice.  He stepped up behind Mikleo and allowed his hands to admire the soft skin along his waist and the dip of his spine.  His thumbs brushed along Mikleo’s back just over the waistband of his pants, eliciting a breathy sigh.  He dropped his head so he could press an open-mouthed kiss to the point where Mikleo’s neck met his shoulder, teasing with just the barest scrape of teeth.

Mikleo’s head tilted back and to the side, his head coming to rest back against Sorey’s.  One of his hands came up to curl at his collarbone, just below Sorey’s mouth, while his other smoothed down his stomach and across the front of his pants.  His lips were just slightly parted, and more of his small, pleasured hums echoed in Sorey’s ear.

Sorey wanted to hear more than that.  He brought his hands around Mikleo’s torso, one coming to rest across his abdomen and pressing gently as he splayed his fingers.  Two of his fingertips dipped teasingly under his waistband.  “Is this okay?” he asked, and waited for confirmation before continuing.  He used his other hand to trail up Mikleo’s thigh, and then dipped between his legs to squeeze.  The breath in his ear came harder, and more uneven, and then tipped into the moan he’d been hoping for as he closed his hand and ran his knuckles across the shape Mikleo’s cock through his clothing.

“Yes,” Mikleo said around another moan as Sorey repeated the action.  He paused to swallow and collect his voice.  “We really should cool off.”

He brushed Sorey’s hands gently away from his body so that he could unfasten his pants.  Sorey took a step back to let him, and to watch with appreciation as he slid them off, along with his underwear, exposing more and more of his pale, beautiful skin.  And there was no way to deny that his bottom would be featuring in Sorey’s dreams again for sure.  Mikleo looked back over his shoulder at Sorey once he was bare, heat in his eyes, and asked, “Coming?”

Oh Lords, that wording had been completely intentional.  Sorey groaned and then moved to strip off his shirt and his own pants.  Mikleo watched, even though his motions were rushed and in no way sexy, and caught his lip in his teeth.  Then he turned back to the pool.

With the way he slipped into the water, ‘fairy’ might not be the right kind of mythological creature to call him; mermaid could suit just as well.  He ducked beneath the surface and then pushed off the bottom with his feet, so he could glide further towards the middle of the pool.  His ponytail streamed behind him, and then billowed in the current of his passing when he stopped and turned again, still submerged.  He sank so he was sitting on the bottom of the pool, and waited.  Mikleo’s bright eyes seemed to shine when he looked back at Sorey, even as the ripples in the surface above him created a wavering image.

Sorey’s own entrance was far less graceful.  He used some pieces of masonry which had broken away from the edge of the pool like steps to lower himself in, although the right word to describe his motions might be more of a scramble.  The water lapped in cool ripples at his heated skin, and he had to bite his lip to hold in a gasp at the temperature.

He waded his way across the pool.  As soon as he was close enough, Mikleo caught one of his hands and used it to drag him all the way down into the water.  A small cloud of bubbles escaped his mouth at his surprise, before he closed his lips to preserve his breath.  Sorey blinked his eyes open to see Mikleo looking at him with a smirk on his face and amusement in his eyes.  He pouted back, but hardly tried to resist when Mikleo pulled him in for another kiss.

It was a bit strange, Sorey decided, kissing underwater, but not unpleasant.   However, it didn’t take long for him to feel the need to surface and catch his breath.  As soon as he tried, Mikleo’s hands tightened where they had come to grip at Sorey’s arms.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Mikleo said.  The sound was distorted in the water, but Sorey got the gist of the statement.  Before he could get the chance to panic, a pocket of air bloomed around their mouths and noses.

“I thought it was sirens, not fairies, that tried to drown men,” Sorey said, after taking a big breath of the wonderful oxygen.

“Oh hush, I didn’t even drown you a little bit.”

“Still, that’s not very nice.”

“Who ever said I was nice?” Mikleo asked.  He shifted forward, and Sorey expected him to move in for another kiss.  Instead, he settled across Sorey’s lap, not close enough to truly press them together, but close enough to tease.  “Besides,” he continued speaking as if he took no notice of their current position, “water has always been my specialty.”

As Mikleo spoke, Sorey felt what was like the caress of fingers through his hair, a hand gliding down his back, even though Mikleo’s hands rested on his shoulders.  He shivered. 

Just the lightest press of real fingertips followed the watery phantom sensation down Sorey’s spine.  They danced in twists and taps, tracing indistinct patterns all the way down until Mikleo’s hand splayed across his lower back.  One finger dipped lower to rub teasingly at the top of the cleft of his bottom.  Sorey hummed in the back of his throat, low and wanting.

Mikleo huffed a small laugh, accompanied by a lovely smile.  “Sorey, what is it you want?”

Sorey scrambled for an answer, trying to think of an answer between Mikleo’s hands on him, and the way the water seemed to move around him alone.  The best he could come up with was, “You.”

“Me, huh?”  Mikleo’s mouth caught Sorey’s up again, and he used the leverage of the hand on his back to move forward that last bit, until they were pressed together, flush from chest to groin. 

Sorey moaned around Mikleo’s tongue, as he began to rock his hips.  His eyes slid shut and his head tilted back, encouraging Mikleo’s lips to leave his, and search out a spot on the underside of his jaw to start making a mark of his own.

Lords, Sorey never wanted to wake up.


End file.
